Chapter 13 Little Hero - Excerpt from the Memoirs of an Unknown Person-1

I was not yet eleven years old.In July, my family asked me to visit the home of a relative named T in the countryside near Moscow.At that time, no less than fifty people visited his house, maybe more... I don't remember exactly how many, and I haven't counted them.It was very lively and happy there.It's like it's a show that only begins and never ends.It seems that our master had vowed to spend his vast estate as quickly as possible, and he has recently succeeded in fulfilling his promise, that is to say, by spending his entire estate to nothing.Every minute new guests arrive.Moscow is close at hand, and you can see it when you look up, so one group of guests left, just to make room for another group of guests, and the show continued as usual.The way of having fun, one replaces another, the tricks are refurbished, and they emerge in endlessly.For a while, they ride horses in the countryside, galloping one after another; for a while, they go for a walk in the pine forest or along the river;

There are three rows of exotic flowers on the balcony, filling the fresh night air with a rich fragrance.Almost all of our ladies were already very pretty, and they were all the more beautiful in the brilliant lights.The impression left by the day made their faces glow, their eyes sparkled, they joked with each other, and laughed loudly like silver bells.And dancing, music, singing.If the weather is gloomy, pantomime, riddles, vivid pictures are drawn, folk proverbs are collected, or a family theater is organized, so that storytellers, jokers, and wisecracks appear on the stage one by one. A few people stand out, which naturally invites some gossip, because without gossip, the world would not exist, and millions of people would die of loneliness and boredom like flies.However, I was only eleven years old at the time, and I was not interested in this aspect at all, so I found no such characters, and if I found a little, it was far from all.Only later did I recall certain circumstances.My childish eyes saw only the bright side of the scene, the general jubilation, the brilliant lights, the bustle, all of which I had never heard or seen, and which astonished me so much that I In the first few days, I was completely at a loss, which made my little head dizzy.

However, I still have to say that I am only eleven years old, so of course I am still a child, a real kid.Many of these beautiful women expressed affection to me without them ever thinking to ask me my age.But what a strange thing to say!A feeling that I can't understand myself has firmly controlled me.A hitherto unfamiliar, unexperienced feeling was stirring in my heart. As a result, my face sometimes felt hot, my heart was pounding, as if I was frightened, and my face often flushed unexpectedly.Sometimes I feel ashamed and even aggrieved by the special care others give me for my children.Once I seemed to be so distressed by this emotion that I even wanted to run and hide where no one could see me, as if to catch my breath and recall things I still remember so well and those I now Things that were suddenly forgotten.Without thinking about these things, I couldn't show up, I couldn't survive anyway.

In the end, I felt that I was hiding something from everyone, and that I should never tell anyone about it, and it was a shameful thing for me as a little child to weep.In the midst of the stormy life around me, I soon felt a certain loneliness.There were other children here too, but they were either much younger or much older than me.Yes, I don't care about them.Of course, if I hadn't been in a special situation, nothing would have happened to me.In the eyes of all these beautiful women, I was still a little thing they could sometimes make out with and sometimes play with as a little doll.One in particular, she seemed to have sworn to keep me from peace.It was a charming fair-haired woman, with loose and extremely thick hair such as I had never seen before, and probably never will.She willed at me every once in a while, which she obviously takes a great deal of pleasure from, but which makes everyone around us laugh.The laughter embarrassed me, but she amused it.At boarding school, her girlfriends would have called her "Snatcher."Her appearance is surprisingly beautiful, and there is something in her beauty that can be seen at a glance.Of course, she wasn't like the little, shy blondes, or the young ladies as white as fluff and delicate as a guinea pig or a parson's daughter.She is not tall and a little fat, but the lines of her face are soft and delicate, which is very attractive.On this face, there seemed to be something like lightning shining, and her whole person was like a ball of fire, lively, agile, and light.Sparks seemed to be constantly shooting out of her wide-open eyes, shining like diamonds.I would never trade such bright blue eyes for black eyes, even if they were darker than those of an Andalusian.A famous and distinguished poet has sung a famous brunette in his beautiful poem ①Andalus—a place name in southern Spain.

I swear by the whole of Castilla; if he were allowed to touch the shawl of this beauty with his fingertips, he would die without a grievance, even if his bones were broken.Compared to this famous brunette beauty, my blonde beauty really is nothing short of.Incidentally, my beauty is the happiest, most self-willed, and child-like of all the beauties in the world, even though she has been married for four or five years. There is always a smile on her lips. These bright lips are like bright roses in the morning. They have just opened their bright red and fragrant buds in the morning sun, and the big cold dewdrops on them have not disappeared yet.

I remember that on the second day I came, a family performance was organized.As the saying goes, the hall is full of people, so crowded that there is not a single vacant seat.For some reason, I was late, so I had to stand and enjoy the show. But the cheerful performance attracted me and made me push forward more and more.I squeezed my way into the first row without knowing it, and ended up standing there with my arm leaning on the back of an armchair.In the armchair sat a woman.That's my blonde beauty.But we didn't know each other then.Inadvertently, I was fascinated by her strangely round and very attractive shoulders.Her shoulders were fat and white as milk froth.In fact, I don't care about anything: the shoulders of a beautiful woman, or the cap with the fiery red ribbon used to cover the gray hair of a respectable lady sitting in the first row.Next to the blonde sat an old maid who had passed her age.I found out many times afterwards that these spinsters always try to get as close as possible to young and beautiful women, crowding with them, and picking out those ladies who don't like to drive young boys away from them.However, the problem is not here.As soon as the old maid caught me watching, she bent down and ate at the neighboring lady ①Castilla-an ancient kingdom in central Spain.

Laughing softly, whispering something in her ear.The woman next to her turned her head suddenly, and I remember that her fiery eyes flashed towards me in the darkness, and I was unprepared for this, and I trembled all over, as if I had been scalded. The beauty couldn't help smiling. "Did you like their show?" she asked, looking slyly into my eyes. "Yes," I replied, still watching with a certain curiosity, which she seemed quite satisfied with. "Then why are you standing? It will tire you out. Don't you have a seat?" "It's just that there are no seats." I replied.This time, instead of focusing on the shining eyes of the beauty, I am concerned that I finally found a good-hearted person who can confide in my suffering, so I am very happy. "I've searched many times and all the chairs are taken," I added, as if I were complaining to her that all the seats were full.

"Come here quickly," she continued quickly.She was quick to talk, quick to find a solution to any absurd idea that flashed through her capricious mind. "Come here quickly and sit on my lap." "Lap?" I repeated, puzzled. I have already said that I began to feel very angry and ashamed at the special treatment I was given.This one seemed to be deliberately making fun of me, and went further than the others.Besides, I was originally a timid and shy child. For some reason, I am very scared in front of women, so my embarrassment is very scary. "Come on, come on your lap! Why don't you want to sit on my lap?" she insisted, and laughed harder and harder, until at last she laughed, God knows why, Maybe it was laughing at her whimsy, maybe it was laughing at my embarrassment.However, this is exactly what she needs.

I blushed and looked around unnaturally, trying to slip away.But she had foreseen this and grabbed my hand first, just to prevent me from slipping away.She suddenly pulled me into her arms and to my great surprise she squeezed my hand so tightly with her hot naughty fingers that it hurt Terrible, it took me a lot of effort not to cry out, and at the same time make an extremely ridiculous ghost look.In addition, I was extremely surprised, terrified, and even terribly afraid that there should be some ridiculous and hateful women who, while chatting with little boys about trivial matters, at the same time, for no reason in front of everyone, The children's hands were pinched painfully.It must have been my sad face that gave full expression to my inner doubts, so that naughty woman laughed like a madman into my eyes, and at the same time squeezed my poor fingers harder and harder.She was overjoyed that she had succeeded at last in embarrassing a poor boy into such a state of embarrassment that he had been fooled once.I'm in a desperate situation.First, I was so ashamed that I had a fever all over my body, because almost everyone around us had turned their heads and looked at us, some were puzzled, and some immediately saw that the beauty was playing a prank, and laughed loudly.Secondly, I wanted to cry out, because she pinched my fingers so cruelly because I didn't cry out, I was determined to hold back the pain like a Spartan, and I was afraid that if I shouted, I would cause confusion, And I don't know what to do after the disorder appears.In utter desperation, I finally decided to fight, and began to use all my strength to pull my hands towards myself, but the strength of my tormentor was much stronger than mine.I finally couldn't help it, and screamed, this was exactly the result she wished for!She dropped me quickly and turned around as if nothing had happened, as if it wasn't her but someone else who was messing around.It's very like a naughty elementary school student. As soon as the teacher turned his back, he played tricks on the neighbors, pulled the ear of a classmate who was weak, slapped him, kicked him, and pushed his chest. Elbow, then quickly turned around, rectified his body, buried his head in the book, and began to recite his homework.In this way, the very angry teacher, like a kite with a long nose, rushed towards the noisy noise, and was unexpectedly fooled.

But I am fortunate that attention is now drawn to the excellent performance of our hero, who is playing the leading role in a Scriboff comedy.The crowd applauded, and taking advantage of the great applause, I slipped out, ran to the corner opposite to her at the end of the hall, hid behind a column, and from there faced the place where the cruel beauty was sitting, trembling. looking at.She covered her lips with her handkerchief, still laughing.Then she looked back many times and searched for me in every corner. She probably felt very sorry that our absurd slaughter ended so quickly, and she was using her brain to think of another trick to play tricks on me.

This is how our acquaintance began.Since then, she has refused to lag behind me.She doesn't care about propriety or conscience, she always pursues me and becomes the one who chases me and tortures me.The whole absurdity of the tricks she played with me was that she pretended to love me very much on the surface, but she made a fool of me in public, which was more unbearable than killing me.All this naturally made me, a wild child who has never seen the world, feel very distressed and sad, even weeping. I have been in such serious crises several times, preparing to fight my sly beauty. My naive embarrassment and my desperate distress prompted her to persecute me to the end.She knows no mercy, and I don't know where to hide from her.The laughter that rang out around us (she was so good at eliciting laughter) only fueled her desire for new mischief.However, later on, everyone found that her joke was a bit too much.Looking back now, it was really too much for her to treat a child like me like that. But, that's the way her character is.By all accounts, she was a favored woman.Later I heard people say that no one dotes on her more than her own husband.He was fat, but short, handsome, rich, and capable, at least outwardly.He is very active and busy, and he can't even stay in one place for an hour or two.He left us for Moscow every day, and sometimes made two trips back and forth, all because of business, as he said.It would be hard to find anything more cheerful and kind-hearted than his comical and always prim face.In addition, he loves his wife surprisingly, is caring and considerate, and treats her like an idol and worships her. He was obedient to her and never restrained.She has countless boyfriends and girlfriends.First, there are very few people who dislike her; secondly, this romantic girl is not too picky in choosing friends. Although you can make many assumptions based on what I have said, her The foundations of character are much more serious than these assumptions.But of all her friends, the one she liked and admired the most was a distant relative, a young wife.Now this lady is in our group.There is a special cordial relationship between them.This is often the case when two diametrically opposed personalities meet.The one is more serious, deeper, and purer than the other, while the other, with a sublime humility and a noble self-knowledge, obeys the other lovingly, feels that the other is superior in every way, and keeps the friendship of the other in his own. In my heart, I regard it as a kind of happiness.At this time, this kind and noble relationship begins to appear between the two personalities: one is loving and utterly tolerant, the other is loving and respecting, respecting to the point of being afraid, always worrying about his own position in the other's mind. status, worrying that the other party does not value oneself, this kind of respect may sometimes even develop to the point of jealousy and greed, hoping to get closer to the other party's heart step by step in life. The two girlfriends are the same age, but starting from their beauty, there is a world of difference between them in every aspect. Mrs. M's appearance is also very beautiful, but her beauty is a bit special, obviously different from many gorgeous women.She had a peculiar expression on her face which, upon seeing her, could not help admiring her at once, or rather arousing in you a sublime and sublime affection.There are indeed such lucky faces in the world.Anyone who sits next to her immediately feels better, freer, warmer.However, her pair of big, melancholy eyes were full of fire and strength, and she watched timidly and restlessly, as if she was being intimidated by terrible hostile forces all the time.This strange timidity sometimes casts a cloud of melancholy on her quiet, gentle face, which resembles the Madonna in Italy, and when you look at it, you can't help but feel melancholy, as if something happened to you yourself. Sad things are the same.It was a pale, thin face.Through its delicate, upright, impeccable beauty and hidden silent sadness and sternness, it often reveals her original face like a child. This is her carefree image not long ago, perhaps because of her innocent Enjoy the image of happiness.And this calm, yet timid, vacillating smile—all this evokes a deep, unconscious sympathy for this woman, a sweet, passionate feeling in everyone's heart. Pay attention to her, defend her loudly from afar, and make strangers get close to her. However, for some reason, this beauty is taciturn and withdrawn, although when others need sympathy, of course no one cares more and loves more than her.Some women are exactly like nurses in life.In front of them, there is no need to hide anything, at least there is no need to hide any inner pain and trauma.Anyone who has troubles can go to them boldly and hopefully, without fear of embarrassment.Few of us know how much love, compassion, and forgiveness that can never be tolerated lie in the hearts of some women.The precious emotions of sympathy, comfort, and hope are all treasured in these pure hearts, but these hearts are often deeply hurt, because they are full of love and sorrow, but they carefully hide their wounds from curious eyes. , because deep pain is often the easiest to keep silent and hide.No matter how deep the wound was, no matter whether it oozes pus or stinks, it does not alarm them.No matter who goes to them, they will get their help.As if they were born to sacrifice themselves to save others... Mrs. M was tall, soft and slender, but a little too slender.Her movements seemed to be irregular, at times slow, gentle, even dignified, at other times quick like a child, and at the same time, there was a timid submissiveness in her gestures, a kind of resignation that seemed to be trembling. but she neither begged for help nor shelter from anyone. As I have already said, the unworthy plot of the blond woman with a sweet heart and a sword in her belly shamed me, pierced my heart, and caused me great pain.But there was another reason, the secret, the eccentric, the absurd, and I hid it and shuddered at it like a miser.Even when I'm alone, whenever I think of it, my turbulent mind hides in dark, hidden corners, out of sight of the examining, mocking gaze of any blue-eyed charlatan, thinking of it. I was so embarrassed, ashamed, and afraid of this incident that I could hardly breathe.In a word, I'm in love, that is, we assume it's me talking nonsense, because it's impossible.But among all the faces around me.Why is there only one face getting my attention?Why did my eyes always follow her, even though I hadn't bothered to look at them at all, and didn't know them at all?This happens most often on rainy nights, when everyone is in the room and I hide somewhere in the corner of the hall by myself, looking around aimlessly, and can’t find anything else to do at all. Because very few people talk to me except for a couple of ladies who play tricks on me.On nights like this, I feel so lonely it's unbearable.At that time, I carefully observed the people around me and eavesdropped on their conversations, but often I couldn't understand a word.It was at this time that the calm eyes, the gentle smile and the beautiful face of Mrs. M (for that was her), God knows why, always attracted my attention and fascinated me, and this strange impression of mine, It's indelible, and though it's vague, it's uncannily sweet.Often I could not seem to leave her for hours on end.Strange to say, I memorized every gesture, every movement of hers, and listened carefully to every vibration of her silvery but slightly lowered voice!From all my observations, besides the impression of shyness and sweetness, there was also a certain strange curiosity, as if I was digging into the bottom of the earth, trying to learn some secret. What pained me most was when I was laughed at in Mrs. M's presence.These jeers and burlesques seemed to me even insulting to me.Sometimes, when everyone laughed for me, and even Mrs. M couldn't help participating in it, I felt desperate and miserable, and I hurried away from my oppressors, ran upstairs, and then hid in the There he passed the rest of the day, not daring to show his face in the hall.However, even I did not understand my shame and excitement.This process happened to me completely unconsciously.I have hardly spoken a word to Mrs. M, and of course I dare not speak to her.But one evening, after my intolerable day had passed, I fell behind everyone in my walk.I was very tired, so I took the short cut and walked home through the garden.On a quiet avenue, I found Mrs. M sitting on a bench.She seemed to have deliberately chosen such a secluded place to sit alone.She hung her head on her breast, and unconsciously twisted a handkerchief between her hands.She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't realize that I had come to her side. After spotting me, she quickly got up from the stool and turned her head away.I saw her hastily wipe her eyes with her handkerchief.It turned out that she was crying.After drying her eyes, she smiled at me and walked home with me.What we said, I can't remember now.But she used all kinds of excuses to send me away every once in a while: she asked me to pick a flower for her, and asked me to go and see who was riding a horse on another avenue.As soon as I walked away, she immediately put the handkerchief to her eyes again, and wiped the disobedient tears. These tears never left her, and they welled up in her heart again and again, and then continued to flow from her poor eye sockets. flow out.She pushed me away so often that it was obvious to me that I was doing her a disservice, and she had already figured it out herself, I saw it all, it was just that she couldn't help herself.It made me feel even more sorry for her.At this very moment, I almost hate myself, I curse myself for being so clumsy and incompetent, not knowing how to slip behind her so cleverly that I don't see her pain, but walking beside her Together, with melancholy astonishment, even horror, utterly bewildered, unable to find a word to sustain our unsustainable conversation. I was so taken aback by this encounter that I followed Madame M furtively all evening with voracious curiosity, without taking my eyes away.But she caught me watching her twice, which made me bewildered, and after the second time, she smiled at me.It was the only smile she had all night.She was very pale now, and the melancholy in her face had not disappeared.She had been talking in low tones with an elderly lady.This is a vicious and nagging old woman. No one likes her probing other people's privacy and making gossip, but everyone is afraid of her, so everyone has to do everything possible to cater to her, no matter you Willing or not... At about ten o'clock Mrs. M's husband arrived by car.Until now I have been watching Madame intently, without taking my eyes off her face.Now, when my husband walked in the door suddenly, I noticed that she trembled all over, and her face, which was already very pale, suddenly became grayer than the color of the handkerchief.This is so obvious that everyone else has noticed it.I stood aside and overheard fragments of the conversation, from which I surmised that poor Mrs. M was not well.Some people said that her husband was jealous like black people, but not out of love, but out of saving face.First of all, he is a European who is obsessed with European civilization, a modernist figure who has some new ideas and shows them off to others.From the outside, this man has black hair, is tall, and is a gentleman with a particularly strong body. He has a European-style sideburn, a rosy complexion, and a triumphant look. The upper and lower rows of teeth are as white as sugar. His gentlemanly demeanor is impeccable.People call him a wise man.In other circles, people also call this special class of people in the same way: they are nourished by others, they do nothing, and they don't want to do it at all. His heart has turned into a piece of fat.From time to time, you can hear such strange talks: the reason why they have nothing to do is because the complicated environment is against them, "killing their talents", so looking at them, "it is sad "So.This is a beautiful phrase that they often hang on their lips, their mot d'ordre ①, their code words and slogans, my well-fed, fat-headed people sing anytime and anywhere, and it has already begun to make people tired, because This is notorious hypocrisy and empty talk.But some of these clowns who can't find anything to do (in fact, they never have) just want people to think that their hearts are not dripping with fat, not a piece of fat, but on the contrary, Generally speaking, there is something deep in their hearts, but what it is, even the first-rate surgeons can't tell, of course, this is out of politeness.The reason why these grown-ups and gentlemen rise in the world is that they use all their talents to laugh at others rudely, to reprimand others short-sightedly, and to exalt themselves without restraint.They have nothing to do but discover and constantly point fingers at the weaknesses and mistakes of others.As they, like oysters, have a mild temper, it is not difficult to be quite discreet in their dealings with others, with such safeguards in place.They are very smug about these. For example, they almost believe that the whole world has to work and pay rent for them. The whole world is like an oyster in their hands. Except for them, everyone in the world is a fool, and everyone is like a person. Oranges may be like a sponge, ready to squeeze the juice out of whenever they need it.They are the masters of all, the masters of all things.The whole admirable order came about because of men of their intelligence and character.While they are extremely proud, they cannot tolerate others saying that they have shortcomings.They resembled the common kind of swindlers, the natural Dartuffs and Falstaffs, who even deceived the main character in Shakespeare's Henry XIV; Small. The character described by the French writer Molière is a false believer and a hypocrite. French: mantra. So far, they finally believe that cheating is justified, that is, cheating is necessary in order to survive.They often want people to believe that they are a group of honest gentlemen, and in the end even they themselves believe that they are indeed a group of honest people, and their deception is also an honest cause.They lack the noble character of self-knowledge, and they never reflect on themselves and judge themselves from conscience.They are very clumsy for other things.They put their golden selves, their gods Moloch and Baal, and their majestic "I" first in everything and everything.The whole of nature, the whole world, seems to them nothing more than a great mirror, made so that my little god can constantly admire himself in it, and because of himself, other people and things, he can't see them all. up.No wonder he sees everything in the world as ugly.He has ready-made phrases for everything and everyone, and the most fashionable ones at that.From their side, this is flexibility of the highest order.They even promote it, spreading around without any grounds the idea that will lead them to success.It is they who have this sense of smell, can smell such fashionable sentences, and master them earlier than others. As a result, it seems that such sentences were first uttered from their mouths.They especially store up the fashionable words they have collected, and use them to express their own deep sympathy for human beings, to determine what is the most correct and reasonable good, and to punish Romanticism endlessly. , are often things of truth and beauty, of which each constituent atom is more precious than their whole race of molluscs.They rudely denied that the slightly flawed, transitional god Baal was used by the sun god or the harvest god in ancient Phoenicia and other countries to express the pursuit of huge profits. The god Moloch was the sun god believed by ancient Phoenicia and other countries. He asked to burn children alive as sacrifices, which is called inhumane here. Sexual and formally imperfect truths, rejecting all that is immature, unrooted, in the making.Such a well-maintained man, who spends his life lavishly, enjoying what he gets, does nothing of his own, and knows no difficulty in doing anything, so if you offend his mean feelings even a little, you have to be prepared for bad luck.He will never let this kind of thing go, he will brood on it, keep it in his heart all the time, take revenge at every opportunity, and take pleasure in it.From this it can be concluded that my hero is nothing more than nothing, but a veritable sack, whose capacity cannot be greater, but which is filled with aphorisms, fashionable words and Various labels. However, Mr. M still has his own characteristics, he is a very striking figure.He can speak well, and is good at telling wisecracks and stories.In the living room, there was always a crowd gathered around him.He was particularly successful in making an impression that night.He was firmly in control of the conversation, he was the protagonist of the spiel, and for some reason he was very happy, cheerful, and still called attention to him.But Mrs. M has always been like a patient. She has a sad face, which makes me always feel that the teardrops that have long hung on her long eyelashes are about to fall down.As I said, all of this blew me away.I walked away with a strange sense of curiosity, and then dreamed about Mr. M all night.Before that, I rarely had messy nightmares. Early the next morning I was called to rehearse a comedy in which I had a role.In three or five days at most it will be the birthday of our host's youngest daughter, and to celebrate her birthday it has been decided to present a comedy and a play in one evening, followed by a dance.For this almost impromptu celebration, a hundred more guests were invited from dachas in Moscow and its suburbs, and there was much bustle and bustle.The rehearsal, or better to say the fitting, was scheduled early in the morning, which was not the right time, since our director, the famous artist Mr. P., was a friend and guest of our host, and he did it out of friendship for him. Agreed to be responsible for writing the screenplay and directing our rehearsal at the same time.Now he was in a hurry to go to town to buy props and make final preparations for the celebration, so he was running out of time and had to hurry.I took part in a play with Mrs. M.This scene represents a scene of medieval life and is named "The Mistress of the Castle and Her Little Attendant". Rehearsing on the same stage with Mrs. M, I felt unspeakably embarrassed.I feel that she will see in my eyes at once all the thoughts, doubts and speculations that have been in my mind since yesterday.In addition, I always feel that I seem to be sorry for her. I shouldn't have seen her cry yesterday, which hindered her from being sad, so she would involuntarily squint at me, because I saw her privacy. A nasty witness, an uninvited guest.But, God forbid, it wasn't a big deal because no one paid me any attention.她好像也根本没有心思来考虑我，而且也没有心思来考虑排演，因为她心不在焉，心情抑郁而且在阴沉地冥思苦想。看得出来，有一件什么大的麻烦事在折磨着她。我的角色一演完，我就赶紧跑去换衣服，十分钟后，我就到面向花园的阳台上去了。几乎是在同一时间，Ｍ夫人从另一扇门里走了出来，恰好迎面碰上她洋洋得意的丈夫。这位先生是从花园那边回来的，他刚刚把一大群女士伴送到那里，把她们交到一位殷勤的ＣａｖAａｌｉｅｒＳｅｒｖａｎｔ①手中。夫妻相见显然是出乎意外的。不知道是什么原因，Ｍ夫人突然感到困窘，她迫不及待的动作，流露出她心情的懊丧。丈夫则漫不经心地哼着小调，一路上还意味深长地不时抚摸自己的连鬓胡子，现在与妻子不期而遇，①法语：殷勤的男舞伴。 他皱起眉头，仔细打量她，据我现在的回忆，他用的是审视的目光。 “您去花园？”他发现妻子手里拿着一把小伞和一本书之后，问道。 “不，我去小树林，”她脸一红，马上作出回答。 “一个人吗？” “和他一起……”Ｍ夫人指着我说道，“我平时早晨一个人散步，”她补充说了这么一句，用的是犹豫不定的声音，俨然像有些人平生第一次说谎时用的声调。 “嗯……我刚刚伴送一大批人去那里。大家正集合在那里的花亭旁欢送Ｈ先生。您知道，他就要走了……他在敖德萨遇到了麻烦……您表妹（他说的是金发女郎）一会儿笑，一会儿又差点哭了起来，有时候还哭笑一齐来，真叫人摸不着头脑。不过，她告诉过我，说您在为什么事生Ｈ先生的气，所以您没去送他。当然，这是胡说罗？” “她是在开玩笑，”Ｍ夫人一边从凉亭上一级一级地下台阶，一边回答。 “这么说来，这是天天陪您的ＣａｖａｌｉｅｒＳｅｒｖａｎｔ（殷勤的男舞伴）？”Ｍ先生歪着嘴巴这么补充了一句，同时把他的长柄眼镜对着我。 “小侍从！”我大声叫了起来，我对他的长柄眼镜和嘲讽很生气，对着她的面，哈哈大笑，一下子竟跳过阳台三级台阶……。 “祝您一路平安！”Ｍ先生含含糊糊地说了这么一句，继续走自己的路去了。 当然，Ｍ夫人刚把我指给她丈夫看的时候，我马上就走到了她身旁。我直望着她，那样子是说，似乎整整一个小时以前她就邀请了我，而且似乎我每天清晨陪她散步，已经整整一个月了。但是我怎么也弄不清楚：为什么她那么尴尬和惶恐不安？在她下定决心撒个小谎的时候，她脑子里到底在想些什么呢？为什么她不干脆说她是一个人在散步呢？到现在我还不知道怎么看她。但是我在震惊之余，非常天真地开始偷偷地瞧看她的面孔。像一个小时以前排练的情况一样，她既没有发现我在偷看，也没有发现我无言的疑问。还是那个折磨人的操心事，不过比当时更清楚、更深刻地反映在她的脸庞上，反映在她激动的心情和行走的步态上。她急着去什么地方，越来越加快脚步。她怀着不安的心情察看每一条林荫道和丛林里的每一块空地，同时不断回头，朝花园方向张望。我也在等待。突然，在我们的身后，响起了马蹄声。这是一大群骑马的男男女女，去欢送突然离开我们这伙人的Ｈ先生的。 在这批女士当中，有Ｍ先生提到的我的那位金发女郎。 Ｍ先生还谈到过她的眼泪。她仍然像往常一样，哈哈大笑，像个不懂事的孩子，正骑着一匹漂亮的骏马，急速疾驰。等到他们与我们并排走着的时候，Ｈ先生摘下了帽子，但他没有停下马来，也没对Ｍ夫人说一句话。我望了Ｍ夫人一眼，差点没有吓得大叫起来：她站在那里，面色比白手帕还白，大颗大颗的眼泪从她的眼中不断流出。我们的目光偶然相遇了。 Ｍ夫人忽然脸色绯红，赶紧扭过头去，不安与懊丧的神情明显地闪现在她的面庞上。我是一个多余的人，比昨天的境况还要坏，这是不言自明的，但是，我该怎么办呢？ 突然，Ｍ夫人好像猜透了我的心思，把她手里捧着的一本书打开来。她的脸又红起来了，她显然在竭力不看我，好像突然想起来似地说道：“哎呀！这是第二部，我拿错了。请你把第一部拿来！” 怎么能不明白呢！我的角色已经扮演完毕，但她不能直截了当地将我赶走。 我带着她的书跑走了，没再回来。第一部书这天早晨安然地摆放在桌子上…… 但是，我却不能自己。我的心在怦怦地直跳，好像我不断受到惊吓。我想方没法，竭力做到不再见到Ｍ夫人。但是我却怀着某种异样的好奇心，去观察自命不凡的Ｍ先生。似乎在他的身上现在一定会出现某种特殊的东西。我完全不明白我可笑的好奇里面，到底包含着什么用意。我只是记得，这天早晨我的所见所闻，使我感到非常奇怪、惊讶。不过我的一天才刚刚开始，但它对我来说，出的事情却已经够多了。 这一次，我们的中餐吃得很早。傍晚决定全体去邻村作一次愉快的旅行，参加那里举行的一次乡村节日活动。因此需要时间进行准备。三天来我一直在想着这次旅行，期待着无数的欢快场面出现。几乎所有的人都集合在阳台上喝咖啡。 我小心翼翼地跟在别人的后面，藏在三排围椅的后面。我受到好奇心的诱惑，同时我又无论如何也不想让Ｍ夫人瞧见。 说来也真巧，我被安排坐在离戏弄我的金发女郎不远的地方。 这一次她身上可出现了奇迹，简直是不可想象的奇迹：她显得加倍地漂亮。我不知道这是怎么发生的？为什么会如此？一般的女人身上出现这样的奇迹，也是少见的。就在这一时刻，在我们之间，出现一位新来的客人。这位高个子、白脸庞的年轻人，是我们金发女郎真正的崇拜者。他刚刚从莫斯科来到我们这里，好像是特意来替代离去的Ｈ先生的。有人传说，这位Ｈ先生已经狂热地爱上了我们的美人。至于新来的这一位，他早与她关系暧昧，同莎士比亚中的培尼狄克和贝特丽丝的关系一模一样。简单地说，我们的美人在这一天是非常成功的。她开的玩笑，无聊的闲谈，都是那么优美、动听，那么天真、可信，虽是粗心大意，却又情可原。 她怀着那么优美的自信，坚信她会受到大家普遍的欢迎，真的会时时受到大家的推崇。惊讶的观众，开始对她进行欣赏，紧紧地围着她不肯走开。她从来没有这么迷人过。她说的任何一句话都具有诱惑力，人们都觉得好奇，于是，抓住它，互相转告；她开的任何一个玩笑，任何一个乖常的行为，都不会被人白白放过。看来，谁也没有料到她有那么风趣，有那么多的才华和智慧。她所有的优秀品质平时都被她的任性、娇纵行为淹没了。她的任性和淘气有时简直达到胡闹的地步。所以很少有人发现她的优秀品质，即使发现，也不敢相信，所以这次取得的非凡成就，使人不胜惊讶，引起人们普遍的、热烈的悄悄低语。 但是，促使这一成功的，有一个特殊的、相当微妙的情况。至少根据Ｍ夫人的丈夫当时所扮演的角色来看，是如此。 那个好作弄人的金发女郎竟然决心向他发起猛烈的进攻（需要补充说明的是，这使所有的人都感到高兴，至少是所有的青年人感到满意），这里面原因很多，其中不少在她看来非常重要。她和他展开了一系列的对攻，舌剑唇枪，你来我往，互不相让，讽刺、挖苦、嘲笑，无所不用其极。她的话句句俏皮、不仅无懈可击，不给对方以可乘之机，而且弹不虚发，句句击中要害，只能使对方疲于奔命，陷对方于疯狂、绝望的可笑境地。 我无法肯定，但我总觉得，这一全套把戏是早有预谋的，而不是即兴之作。早在吃中饭的时候，这一场激烈的决斗，就已经开始了。我说“激烈”，是因为Ｍ先生并没有很快放下武器。他必须鼓足勇气，动员他说俏皮话的全部能力，使出他罕见的全部机智，以免遭到迎头痛击，被彻底打垮，从而蒙羞出丑。战斗是在战斗参加者和所有目击者不断地发出阵阵哄笑声中进行的。对于Ｍ先生来说，今天的情况至少与昨天不同。很明显，Ｍ夫人好几次想制止自己粗心大意的朋友，然而根据各种可能和我记得的情况来看，再就是根据我在这次决斗中所扮演的角色来看，她的这位朋友却硬要让她嫉妒的丈夫穿上极其可笑的丑角服装，也就是说让他扮演“蓝胡子①”的角色。 这事是以最可笑的方式，突然发生的，完全出乎意料。这时我好像故意站在最显眼的地方，没怀疑会遭殃，所以连前不久保持的警惕性，也忘了。突然，我被当作Ｍ先生的死对头和自然而然的情敌，提到了首位，折磨我的那个女郎当即赌咒发誓，说她掌握有确凿的证据，证明我在疯狂地爱着他的妻子，而且爱到了极点。比如今天她就在树林中看见…… ①蓝胡子系法国民故事中狂暴的丈夫，曾经先后杀死六个妻子。 但是，她的话还没来得及说完，我就在对我极关紧要的时刻，打断了她的话。这个时刻是她丧尽天良安排好的。她想以出卖我的方式来结束这场滑稽可笑的闹剧。这个结束场面安排得非常巧妙，同时又非常滑稽可笑，以致怎么也制止不住大家哄堂大笑。她便以这种如同爆炸一样的笑声来庆祝这场闹剧的最后一幕。尽管我当时已猜想到，最恼火、最尴尬的角色不是我，但是我还是感到非常狼狈、愤怒和惊恐，两眼充满了泪水，满怀愁苦和绝望，同时羞得喘不过气来，于是我穿过两排围椅，向前冲去，用因哭泣和愤怒而变得断断续续的声音，对着我的戏弄者大声叫喊：“您怎么不觉得害羞……当着所有的女士的面……竟敢大声……编造这样卑鄙的……谎言？！……您真像个小孩…… 当着所有的男人的面……他们会说什么呢？ ……您年纪这么大了……还是个出了嫁的女人呢！ ..." 但是，我的话还没说完，就响起了一阵震耳欲聋的掌声。 我的这一举动，获得了真正的ｆｕｒｏｒｅ①。我天真的手势，我的眼泪，而最主要的是好像我挺身而出，保护Ｍ先生，所有这一切使大家差点笑破了肚皮，即使到了现在，一想起来，我自己也觉得非常可笑……我不知所措，几乎被吓得失去了理智，我全身发烧，好像一个火药桶，两手捂着脸，飞快跑了出去，在门口撞翻了走进房来的仆人手中端着的托盘，然后飞身上楼，跑进自己的房间。我拔掉插在门上的钥匙，从里面把门反锁起来。这件事我做得好，因为很快就有人追上来①法语：热烈的喝彩。 up.不到一分钟，一大群住在这里的最漂亮的女士就围在门口了。我听到了她们响亮的笑声、频繁的交谈声、时高时低的说话声。她们一齐叽叽喳喳，活像一群小燕子。她们一个个又是央求，又是哀告，要我把房门打开，那怕是打开一分钟也行。她们赌咒发誓说她们对我并无半点恶意，她们只是想亲亲热热地吻我一下。但是……还有什么比这种新的威胁更可怕呢？我只是在我的房门后面羞得全身发烧，把脸庞藏在枕头里，既没有开门，甚至也没有应声。她们还敲了好久的门，苦苦地哀求我，但是我无动于衷，充耳不闻，真正是个不懂事的十一岁的孩子。 唉，现在怎么办呢？我费尽心机竭力珍藏的一切……全都被人揭开了，发现了……永远洗不掉的耻辱，落到了我的头上！……说老实话我自己也说不清，我这样害怕，这样想方设法加以掩饰的东西到底是什么。不过，我确实是害怕一个什么东西，由于这个东西遭到了暴露，我至今还在瑟瑟发抖，就像被风吹着的一小片树叶。只是有一点在此以前我并不明白：它到底是什么，是有用，还是没有用，是光荣还是耻辱，值得称赞还是不值得称赞？现在呢，从无穷的痛苦和深深的烦恼中，我认清了，原来它是非常可笑和可耻的！我同时又本能地感到，这样的判断是虚伪的、残酷无情和粗暴的。但是，我已遭到惨败，被彻底打垮了。认识与觉悟的过程似乎在我的身上已经停止，开始变得紊乱不堪了。我既无力反驳这一判断，甚至也无力去好好地对它进行思考：我的头脑已经模糊不清，我只感觉到我的心遭到了残酷无情、厚颜无耻的伤害，眼睛里噙着无力的泪水。我被深深地激怒了。